


Purity

by NumptyPylon



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Coming of Age, Family Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 03, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 06:54:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23467198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NumptyPylon/pseuds/NumptyPylon
Summary: The sun arcanum stands for purity, but what does purity mean? Callum's advancements in magic was always rooted in emotion. In love. Connecting to the sun arcanum is no different.The journey of Sarai’s spear, from bright, inspiring tool of protection to corrupted instrument of vengeance, to staff of the first human mage in a millennium.Character-focused family drama.
Relationships: Amaya & Callum (The Dragon Prince), Amaya & Sarai (The Dragon Prince), Amaya/Janai (The Dragon Prince), Callum & Sarai (The Dragon Prince), Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 92
Kudos: 127





	1. Once

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of practice with povs, since my other story only has one, on a plotbunny that wouldn’t leave me about Sarai’s spear being an obvious candidate for Callum’s future mage staff, especially considering how his advancements in magic always have a strong emotional component. So this is about the sun arcanum on the surface, but in the spirit of the show, it’s really about love and family.
> 
> T-rating is purely for language, because Amaya will feature heavily in this, and I just can’t bring myself to censor her <3
> 
> I’ve had the first two thirds of this story gathering dust for weeks, because the ending is stumping me. But I’ll just start posting it, maybe that’ll motivate me to finish it.

Katolis Castle, 10 years before The Battle of the Spire

Sarai looked down at her son, trying to lift the spear she had abandoned on the paving stones in petulant pregnant frustration unbecoming of a princess. She hated that Harrow had been right and her stomach really _had_ been in the way of her signature move. But you could not be grumpy for long with Callum around, and she smiled as she watched his little face screwing up in concentration. The boy managed one end of the spear, then abandoned the endeavor to join her on the stone bench overlooking the courtyard.

“Hey little brother.” Callum put his tiny hands on her stomach. Looked up at her hopefully. “When’s he coming out?”

“A month or two.”

“That was what you said yesterday, and Tuesday, and Monday. And last week.” He pouted.

“It’s an estimate. That means we don’t know exactly when, so the estimate doesn’t change if you ask every day,” Sarai explained. Callum liked learning new words. And he would remember every one of them, it was uncanny. “Anyway, how do you know it’s a boy? Or would you just rather it was a boy?”

“I would rather it was a boy.” He said firmly. “I already have a girl-friend. Claudia.”

“Don’t you have Soren too?”

“He’s mean.” He’s jealous, Sarai thought, but did not say it. That was _not_ a word a 4-year-old needed to learn.

“You know you won’t be able to play with him right away? Not like with Soren and Claudia. He’ll be very small.”

“I know. He’ll be really little and not know how to walk or talk or tell Soren to go away when he’s mean. That’s what the spear is for! It’s just too heavy right now, but a month or two is a long time, and I’ll be way bigger and stronger then, right?” Optimism was a good trait to have, she thought, and did not correct him.

“It’s hopefully not to use on Soren?” She laughed, unconcerned. Callum had never been violent, even as a toddler in the throes of frustrated anger he had thrown his broccoli at the floor and not at her.

“No, it’s to protect my little brother! That’s what it’s for! Protecting. You said!” She had, and as always, Callum had remembered. It was not so easy to explain the purpose of a deadly weapon to an innocent and endlessly curious little boy. ‘Protect’ seemed to be the best choice of words that was not a lie. A dirty deed with pure intent was still a dirty deed, but that was a subject she would broach with him when he was old enough to understand the meaning and not just memorize the words.

“You’re right. But you know, when your little brother - or sister! I’m not making any promises there, sweetheart! - comes out, he won’t be inside my stomach anymore? And then it won’t be too big anymore, for me to use the spear. So I’ll protect both of you with it. I know you’re brave and strong, and I’ll teach you how to use it when you’re big enough, if you want to. But until you can lift it properly, you’re not big enough. Okay?”

“Okay mom.” Callum promised seriously. Pure innocence to protect. Pure trust to live up to.

* * *

Katolis Castle, 1 year before The Battle of the Spire

“I told you dad! Uncatchable is just another kind of catchable!” Claudia grinned at Viren, triumphant, holding up the horn of the unicorn. “Maybe I’ve just got some stuff you don’t!” She did. Purity. Innocence.

The legends said it required purity of body. Virginity. Legends were insipid things. As if magical creatures cared what bits of flesh touched other bits? What cavities had been filled? Ridiculous. Magical creatures felt aura and ambiance and corruption. They cared about purity of intent rather than the actions themselves. He had not had sex for so long he was as good as virginal. And no unicorn would ever have come within miles of him. He was corrupted. His body. His mind. He did what was right for Katolis, but he knew what he was doing. The bent rules of state and morality along the way. The marks the sacrifices he had made for the betterment of mankind had left on his body. There was such a thing as a greater purpose, and such things as minor sins. Still, he had no illusions about himself. He was good. He was not pure.

Viren looked at Claudia. Purity. Innocence. She would happily crush magical beings for fluffier pancakes, but he had done his job as a parent to let her do it unencumbered by guilt and shame. Do it while laughing, singing, whistling… well trying to whistle. Immeasurable as her talent was, she had never quite mastered whistling. Do it and remain joyful and sweet. Do it with pure intent, as was her right as a child. As his child.

“Clauds, that’s awesome! You do have the stuff! The awesome, unicorn-conquering stuff! The uni-con-stuff!” Soren. Another kind of unencumbered. Another kind of innocence. Far less deserving of preservation. Idiocy was not a kind of innocence he had particular patience for. Being so unencumbered by wit or thought was unbecoming of his bloodline. The boy could not help being born so much less intelligent than his sister, but the mental inertia, the laziness… that, Soren could help if he cared to apply himself, and he did not. Never had.

“Oh! Oh!” Claudia tapped her nose with her finger. “Soren! You’re a genius!” No. “Uni-con-stuff! That’s it! Let’s make a unicorn staff!” Yes.

Let’s.

* * *

Katolis Castle, 5 months before The Battle of the Spire

Harrow’s hand closed around the spear. It was done. He had decided when he pricked his finger, the blood was _literally_ on his hands. But it would be regardless. Every act of Viren’s that he had signed off on… they were on him too. Even the acts Viren had done that he had _not_ signed off on. Weren’t they on him too? Viren was high mage at his behest, on his authority.

He looked at the spear. Hers. Protection, she had said, once, when Callum had run his hands - tiny hands then - along the shaft and asked what it was for.

But protection was not enough. She had not lived to see those tiny hands grow bigger. Gripping the heft of a practice sword too tight, never quite right. Gentle on Ezran’s face, wiping tears away. Deftly twisting flowers into a wreath for Claudia. Clumsy and fidgeting most of the time, but sure and steady around his charcoal pencil and around Ezran’s hand when he held it.

Protection was not enough to make things right. He could protect his boys, but not from everything. He could not protect Callum from the loss he still felt, from the distance he did not want but could not seem to bridge without her here. He could not protect Ezran from missing what he had never known.

It was done. Corruption swirled around the tip of the spear. It was not what she would have wanted. But it was necessary. This deed could not be accomplished by pure means. They had disagreed on that a lot, he remembered. There was no way though, to create a better world, _and_ every act along the way remaining impeachable. If his purity was the cost, then so be it.

* * *

Storm Spire Plains, 2 years after The Battle of the Spire

Rayla tightened her legs around Callum’s waist. It was a bit of a challenge to get close enough. Hovering wasn’t much of an option, because although he had gotten better at shaping wind around him intuitively while in flight, that was not an option this close to the ground. A beat of his wings sent them powerfully in one direction or the other. But she was the elf for the job, definitely. If anyone could grab a spear shaft in mid-flight without braining themselves or falling or otherwise making a mess of things, it was this elf right here. This was his mother’s, it was important, she could do this.

His third pass got her close enough. She grasped and pulled. The spear tore loose from the crumbling stone that used to be Avizandum. Her fingers on the shaft of the spear tingled with something spreading and twisting. Like a drop of blood in clear water. The world faded.

Was she still holding the spear? She had been trying to get it out. She had been flying. Flying through the air wrapped around her favorite person. Heavy now. Back to earth. She felt every part of her body now, thrown back into stark relief with sudden and rather unwelcome clarity. Her face against the grass, aching ribs and knees, the shock of the landing through every part of her. She blinked. Fuzzy. Green.

Gentle hands on her, turning her face to the light. “Hey. Rayla. You okay? Please…” Callum. “Rayla?” Panic, just barely contained. His, not hers. She tried to focus. It all felt a bit muffled, the breath through her nose muffled. She touched her nose. Red on her hands. Oh. But focus was improving. She could see him now. And he was worried, he was trying to stay calm, but he was _very_ worried. And she had to fix it.

“I’m fide.” She said. Sniffed.

“No.” Quiet derision. He didn’t like it when she said she was fine, even when it was almost true. The grass had been soft…ish. “You fell.” He was doing something, and then blissful cool cloth against her face, mopping up some of the pesky blood. His ice spell. She tried to get up, and she could see the conflict on his face before he relented and helped her. He knew blood in the sinuses was not a good thing. Better to sit up. His gentle hands steadied her back, tilting her head forward and pressing the cloth to her nose. “You fell,” he repeated. Then guilty and choked, he added. “I dropped you.” Oh love. That was a very sore spot, she knew. He still had nightmares where he didn’t catch her or she slipped from his grasp. “How do you feel?” He asked, still shaky.

“Like I just fell out of the sky,” she grumbled, a little too flippant, but she had to put him at ease, and acting normally was the way to do it. “Achy. Nothing broken though. Not even my nose, doesn’t hurt enough.” His fingers lightly ghosted across her neck, her head, her left wrist, which still caused her problems sometimes. He was not being affectionate, he was fussing, and he knew how much she hated that, especially when she really was fine. But she let him, because he thought he had dropped her, and he was definitely freaking out inside his head right now.

“You don’t feel… strange? You passed out right after you touched the spear. Only for a few seconds but… what happened?”

“I touched the spear. It felt like the touch of those tentacles Claudia used, when we escaped the Moon Nexus. And then I was on the ground.” That was not very descriptive, but it had been over so quickly. “Hey. I’m okay.” She managed to keep her voice steady despite her slight unease. She sounded a little muffled, but that couldn’t be helped. Her hand found his face, his hair.

Most of the remaining panic seemed to leave him, as she carded her fingers through his hair, again and again. “I’m so sorry.” He said, kissing her palm. Not this again, dummy.

“What for?” She sniffed, her nose still clogged. “It was my dumb idea to do it like this.” It definitely was. Callum had a lot of dumb ideas, but they did not often involve risk to her. Not since the Bantherlodge, two days after they met and more than two years ago now.

“It was for my sake we did it. And I _dropped_ you.” Trying to gauge how she could hug him without getting blood on him, she settled for leaning into his side, putting her arm around him. He was still shaking a little bit.

“I’m pretty sure I dropped myself, dummy.”

“Because of some dark magic thing! That I was supposed to have known about. I’m the mage.”

“Neither of us thought it would be that powerful, Callum. Especially after so long. How were you supposed to know?”

“That spear brought down a thousand-year-old arch dragon, thought invincible. I should have known it was that powerful. Dangerous to magical beings like you. I’ll deal with it from here-” Oh no he absolutely would not. He had another thing coming if he thought _that._

“The hell you will! You’re a magical being too, if you recall.” She glared at him from over the bloodied cloth.

As one, they looked at the spear, standing upright, tip stuck in the plain. They could not leave it there. They could not touch it either. Whatever dark spell they thought had faded after two-and-a-half years, seemed to have flared back up. Because of her touch? Had it… done something to her? Recharged itself with _her_ magic? That was not a pleasant thought. She remembered Callum’s description from when he had used dark magic, years back. Strands of infecting influence, disturbing and corrupting the purity of body and purpose. She did not feel any different, except slightly dizzy and more than slightly sore.

It had seemed inert when they had studied it from below, trying to plan their spear retrieval mission, but now purple tendrils disturbed the air near the point.

* * *

Callum landed in front of the spear. It was not lying, not exactly. This place was well within the boundaries of a casual flight from the top of the Spire. And Rayla was almost certainly only too happy to be rid of him, he had been annoying her for hours, showing her just a bit too much attention, and not the fun kind. She did seem fine, except bruised and grumpy and sick of his hovering.

And he had to do this. His flight had drawn him here of his own accord. He studied the plain behind him. No rocks. It should not be a huge problem if he passed out for a few seconds like Rayla had. And he had to _know._ A second-hand account was not sufficient.

Looking at the shaft in front of him, he was reminded of a rain-soaked hill in Katolis, tearing wind, Zym yipping in concern. He had not grasped that lightning rod when it counted. Probably smart, in hindsight. He doubted getting electrocuted would have gotten him any nearer to connecting to the sky arcanum. Was he being as much of an idiot now? He felt the same pull. Having to know. The risk was much less, it was certainly not going to kill him like the lightning strike well could have. Rayla was fine. He had been watching her. She really did seem to be fine.

But this was exactly the kind of thing they had agreed to not do. They were supposed to decide together. And she had definitely picked up on his state of mind. She was probably om her way here. She was probably on her way down those stairs on a bruised knee right now. And by probably he meant definitely.

He knew her and knew exactly where on the continuum from ‘walking it off’ to ‘walking down the entire mountain’ she belonged. And she knew him and knew where he would have gone. And he knew where she would have gone.

Callum took flight, leaving the spear behind, but not the yearning.

He found Rayla less than a quarter of the way down the stairs. She was wearing his old boots, from the first time they had stayed at the Spire, when they had brought Zym home, that had remained at the Spire because his feet had grown by the time they left. That meant her knee was giving her enough trouble to not put her own boots on, and she had still gone down those stairs. Pure stupid selflessness.

He swore under his breath at the same time as he swept her into his arms. She buried her face in his neck.

“You didn’t…? No. You didn’t. Or you wouldn’t have sought me out.” She muttered, squeezing him tightly to her.

“No, I didn’t. We decide together. We agreed. I wanted to, though. I still do.”

They had argued for quite a while about this already, and had gotten no closer to agreement than agreeing they were sick of arguing about something they were not going to agree on.

“Callum. You don’t know what the effect will be. It was made to slay a being of the sky primal. Like you.” Oh. He had not thought of that. That was… a really good point. She had probably had some time to work on her arguments on the way down from the Spire.

“I’m sorry I ran off. I’m sorry you had to come after me.” They always ran after each other. He knew she would come. “I couldn’t let it go. The idea of it there, still corrupted. It wasn’t just Viren that did that. It was my dad too. We read Viren’s notes. It’s… it’s _wrong._ ” It was not just wrong. A lot of things were wrong. It was wrong and _personal._ “It doesn’t mean what it’s supposed to anymore, they twisted its purpose, twisted my mother’s memory.” It twisted his heart right now. “And I have to _fix_ it.” He shut his eyes tightly. He was not going to cry, he was going to _fix_ this.

He felt her hands on his forehead, smoothing motions across his furrowed brows.

“Okay.” _What?_

“Really? You agree with me?”

She smirked a bit, although unhappy concern remained in her eyes. “Absolutely not. But I’ll support your dumb ideas if you support mine. You _definitely_ didn’t think it was a good idea when I went through that portal at the Moon Nexus, you just knew it was important to me. That I had to do it. And this dumb idea is important to you. So it’s important to me.”

He took flight, Rayla already so tightly wrapped around him, she barely had to shift for the takeoff.

They landed in front of Thunder for the third time that day. Considered the spear for the third time. This time, Callum closed his hand around the shaft.

Tendrils of purplish black. It was not like he did not feel the corruption when he touched it. He definitely did. But it did not repel him as it had Rayla. What was the difference? Unlike her, he had braced for it, had been prepared. Different mindset in the moment. Different arcanum. Different species. Different bloodline. For some reason, he leant towards the latter. It had been his mother’s. It was his, now. He lifted it. He could. He was big enough now. It was time then, like she had said.

He got almost all the way back to the Spire, before it occurred to him that there was another, much more likely reason, why the spear had rejected Rayla and not him. She was pure. He was not. It had only been once, but it was enough. Sol Regem had smelled it on him. He felt it now, the connection like an arcanum but twisted. Remembered the feeling of the slimy guts of a slug squeezed between his fingers. The feeling afterwards, of corruption. A tiny drop, but enough to color the world in purplish black. A tiny drop infecting the whole. He needed to fix that too.

He would make it mean what it had to him as a child. Protection. Love. He would make his mother’s intent with it, corrupted by Harrow and Viren, pure again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s a kind of exploration of different interpretations of purity, exemplified by different characters. I’m probably a bit too fond of thematic coherence, because I think the self-imposed need to keep that up is what’s stumping me. And I realize it’s not necessary for an entertaining story :D Ah well, hopefully I’ll have a breakthrough.
> 
> Next part in a couple of days probably, once I make a sparring scene not suck. Third part is a bit more uncertain, because I haven’t written it yet. But I like parts of this too much to scrap it completely, so I posted it. Hope you enjoyed :)
> 
> Up next: family drama in Lux Aurea


	2. Takes Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like for characters to be flawed and human, and now I take on fan-favorite Amaya. So I’m a bit nervous about that. I love her to bits, that’s why I DON’T want a portrayal without weaknesses or regrets.
> 
> And this chapter also has the sparring scene that was messing me up. I figured out the issue was not just that I can’t write action very well, but that the classic action I thought I had to write actually distracted from the emotional core of the scene and didn't fit with the character-focused narrative. So I pared it down completely and changed the focus to thoughts rather than actions, and I like it better. But please let me know how it worked for you, it's new ground for me :)
> 
> So yeah, pretty nervous about this chapter, all things considered :D It's very different from the first, because this is another perspective on Sarai's legacy. This story is an experiment with POVs in a more general sense too, creating conflicting perspectives of events and ideas of two characters who are both supposed to be sympathetic.

Township of Deerling Wood, 21 years before The Battle of the Spire

Sarai’s hand in hers. Guidance and support as it always was. The parade was passing, almost out of sight. The last marching soldiers turned the corner and were gone. To Amaya at least. The rest of the crowd clearly still heard the music, from the way they moved, the way their attention was still directed at where the parade had gone. The drums were too far away for Amaya to feel the vibrations anymore, but Sarai’s hand tapped the beat into her palm. Her sister was staring into space though, uncharacteristically distracted.

Amaya squeezed her hand to get her attention, then signed. _You’ve been boring for days. Who is it? Making you boring?_

Sarai flushed a bit. But she almost never refused to tell Amaya anything she asked. Maybe she knew how frustrating it was to not be privy to so many things, even though that was something Amaya tried to hide, because it was not Sarai’s fault the rest of the world was not like her. Conversations taking place behind her. Juicy gossip and important information hidden by hands and turned heads, by scarfs and high collars.

 _Elise._ Sarai signed, a really quite ridiculous smile spreading on her face. _The red-head spy stationed out near the north gate._

Yeah, Amaya knew her. She was also privy to things she was not meant to be privy to. Because people tended to forget lip reading worked over longer distances and disregarded crowds and music. Complete focus, if the line of sight was right. _You realize she is not really a SPY for the army? Spies don’t kill people. Spies that kill people are government-approved assassins. You’re really telling me you’re letting an assassin… assault you with a friendly weapon?_

Sarai giggled. _As immeasurably proud a big sister as I am right now, that you remember the euphemisms for sex I’ve taught you, that one doesn’t work when none of us are male. Well… mostly doesn’t work. I’ll tell you about THAT when you’re… not 12 years old._ That just wasn’t fair, and Sarai clearly noticed her thoughts on this. _Dad would kill me. You know how he flipped about the sex euphemisms. And this is way worse._

 _You tell me everything!_ Amaya signed, indignant.

_I’m still your big sister, I have to set SOME limits. And you’d think it was gross anyway. I promise._

_Fine. I’ll ask again when I’m 13._

_14._

_Deal._ Amaya grinned triumphantly. Only a little over a year. Not so bad. And Sarai might well yield before then. _Anyway. You’re letting her do… THAT to you_? _Without the weapon, but the same sentiment?_

 _Not yet. I’m working on it though._ Sarai smirked, with enviable confidence. She would almost certainly succeed. She usually did.

 _You want to be with a person who does the things an assassin does?_ Amaya asked.

 _No. There’s no future for us._ Sarai signed, but did not look upset about it. _I’m not looking for a future just yet, so that’s not so important. And there’s a chance she’ll change her mind. I’m working on that too. But if she doesn’t, we can disagree and still have fun together. Like the two of us, right?_

_Right. Because I definitely disagree about that being a sound decision._

_Who said anything about sound decisions?_ Sarai laughed. _No, we’re in agreement there. This is a terrible decision. I just have to make it anyway. You’ll understand, the first time you see someone in tight pants and a spectacular butt just look back at you and smile like…_

_Stop! I yield! It IS gross and I DON’T want to know!_

Sarai smiled warmly at her, and backed off like they had agreed to do when the other yielded. _Okay. Let’s talk about something we’re both interested in. Like my new spear! You’ve seen it, right? Want to try it out? You’re crazy strong, you can do it._

 _Yeah!_ That _was_ far more interesting. Still though. She had to make herself clear first. That would be easy to do though, Sarai _always_ understood what she was saying. _But also something else. I disagree. And I think it will go wrong. But if it does go wrong and you’re upset about it… I DO want to know. Okay?_ Because they supported each other. No matter what. But she didn’t have to say that. Her big sister understood. And it was a deal they had had for a long time. They supported each other. Always.

Sarai pulled her off her feet into a tight hug.

* * *

Lux Aurea, 2 years after The Battle of the Spire

Callum entered the throne room of Queen Janai, the unsettling tension from the corrupted spear in his right hand balanced by the steadying force of Rayla’s hand in his left.

He took a deep breath, and approached his aunt. She knew he was coming of course, but there were things he did not want to communicate in a letter. He saw her eyes widen when she saw what he was holding.

 _Callum. What. Is. That?_ Amaya somehow managed to convey extreme gravitas without the aid of intonation.

“My mother’s spear. We got it from Thunder’s body. And I’m here because it’s tainted, and I’m going to purify it. And myself.”

_What?! No. No you are not, young man. Do you have any idea what the purification ritual entails? I do. I was deemed pure and it was still the worst thing I have ever gone through. And that is only the judging._

“I have to try. Look at it, Amaya! The spear is not just tainted by dark magic, although it is that too. Its purpose is tainted. Harrow and Viren used it to exact revenge in my mother’s name, the last thing she would have wanted, you and I both know that.”

_I can assure you she would not want her son to do what you are suggesting either._

He swallowed. He had not gotten to the worst part. Was it right to share information that had made him feel sick to his stomach with another person who had also loved his mother. Share hurt? He focused on Rayla’s hand, finding his courage. “Amaya, that’s not nearly the worst of it. You can see the spear is tainted by dark magic. I’m sure you can ascertain that that was Viren’s work. I found the book Viren got the ritual from, in his dungeon. Ez sent his stuff, remember? It’s in a locked vault in the library here in Lux Aurea. You don’t know! It’s- it’s _worse_ than it looks.”

_I would not be so sure about that. I think you may underestimate how badly this looks. How badly you look. There are people who care about you and need you, Callum._

“I AM NOT UNDERESTIMATING HOW BAD IT IS! LISTEN!” He shouted. Some of the Sunfire elves turned to him, but did not judge. Passion was socially acceptable to Sunfire elves, fortunately. He breathed hard. Rayla’s fingers on his, hidden caress inside his palm. Focus. Breathe. “Her breath. Her dying breath. My mother’s dying breath was used to create this. My mother’s breath and my father’s blood.” Amaya looked as horrified now, as she really ought to have been from the start, Callum felt. She had to understand now. “It disgraces both their memories, the existence of it.”

 _Destroy it then._ It… it was not coldness that made her say this, he _knew_ but-

“I CAN’T do that! Don’t you understand? If I destroy it, that’s how it ends! The end of her legacy, the final act. Do you understand now, that I can’t do that?” Tears had reached his chin, dripping on the floor, but he did not care.

_No. Destroy it. It is an object. There are other ways to remember her. You are one of those ways. You are her legacy, you and Ezran. Not a thing._

“That’s what I mean! I’ll purify it from dark magic. And then I’ll purify what it means and stands for. I’ll use it for a different purpose, the purpose my mom intended, to protect the innocent. It’s not about a thing. It’s about its meaning, her intent with it. And mine.”

Amaya backed away from him, her eyes wide. _No. Callum. No. Let her rest. Let the past be. What Harrow did defiled her memory, rest assured we are in agreement on that. But this will not change that. Nothing can change what already happened. And I will repeat this until it sinks in: You do not know what you are getting yourself into._

“Amaya, I’m not asking for your permission,” he said heatedly. “Only informing you of my intent. My intent is pure.” He knew enough Sunfire customs to know what that meant, a declaration that you would not be swayed, and it was good manners for whoever you were arguing with to back off and if not let you have your way then at least let you have your opinion. He knew Amaya knew that too.

 _Fuck off._ Amaya turned on her heel and stalked out.

Rayla pulled him fully into her and he let the corrupted spear drop to the marble floor so it would not touch her. He lifted shaking hands to wipe his face. He would not cry, he would fix this. He sniffed, took a deep breath, and pulled himself away.

He turned around to face the warm brown eyes of his aunt’s girlfriend. His aunt’s… intended. The Sunfire elves used that word too, same as the Moonshadow, but it meant something slightly different. For the dutiful Moonshadow, it meant a promise, that you intended marriage eventually. For the passionate Sunfire it meant purity of intent, an official acknowledgement of your pure feelings for another person.

Janai did not seem angry at his outburst in her throne room, nor about to race after her fuming intended. “It was your mother’s?” Janai asked, gesturing at the spear. “Amaya talks about her a lot. They were close. I loved my sister too, but… hearing her talk about Sarai…” She trailed off. “I understand your need for closure. Amaya does too, but she is too close to this. She will find you after a thorough quality testing of the training dummies.” Janai shrugged. “Or not.”

“You’re not… going after her?” Callum wondered.

Janai looked at him, measured. “No. She is an adult. She will find me if and when she wants to talk.” She smirked a little. “Your relationship works differently, I take it.” Yes. They always, _always_ ran after each other.

“Uh, yes?”

“You were children when you met. You grew up together, relying on each other. Your aunt and I, we grew up apart, relying on ourselves.” She smiled warmly. “We love each other. But that does not change the people we had already grown into, going into this relationship.”

“Can’t you go after her now? She’s clearly upset, and upset with _me_ , and I can’t just-”

“They have an agreement same as us. You may think our way is superior, but our way is our way and theirs is theirs.” Rayla said, fixing him with quite a stern glare. “But _I’ll_ do it. Since it will compromise the agreement you have if you do it,” Rayla glanced at Janai, “-and you’re probably not the person she wants to see right now,” she finished, looking at Callum.

“Rayla, I’ve never seen her like that before. She curses all the time, you know _that_ , but she’s never cursed at _me_ before.”

“I’ll use my famous wit and charm?” Oh, it was really not fair for her to smile at him like _that_ when he was trying to be miserable.

He could not help smile a little bit though. She always knew how to cheer him up, and this kind of invitation to flirty banter was pretty reliably effective. “Famous, eh? I seduced you, remember? Amaya agrees with you on that.”

“You use your charm then, that works too.” She smirked.

“Like you said, I don’t think she wants to see me right now.”

“I’ll distract her from being miserable by mouthing off?”

“That… might work.” They _were_ related, afterall.

* * *

Amaya hefted her shield, the familiar shift in her stance and balance to account for its weight not calming exactly, but… steadying. Emotions still there, but behind her, allowing thoughts to be addressed without overwhelming her, allowing the focus to narrow on her objective. The wooden dummy in front of her.

Sign language was a language. Not everyone understood that, that it didn’t map perfectly to spoken words, that translation was really interpretation. And when Sarai died, Amaya had not only lost the person she loved most in the world, but the one person she knew who always understood what she was saying and never misunderstood or missed anything or needed things dumbed down or rephrased. The compounded loss had almost destroyed her.

Her sword crashed into the dummy’s neck with a slight spray of splinters, the impact reverberating up her arm.

Her girlfriend at the time had left not too long after it happened. Amaya did not blame her, in retrospect, although she definitely had at the time. There was only so much one person could take, and she had been moody and closed off and completely uncommunicative, with probably no indication of that changing anytime soon. It had not changed soon. It just hurt mostly one person instead of two.

The dummy fell to the third strike of her shield. There were others.

She had run off to the Breach, where she could bash in skulls, something she was good at, instead of staying in Katolis with Sarai’s children, changing diapers and holding a crying 5-year-old in the night, something she was _not_ good at, but should have probably practiced.

The new dummy stood the impact of her shield. Sturdy stuff then. She readied her word instead.

She had not gone back until over a year later, Callum’s 7th birthday. The boy had not seen her for so long, but he had hugged her legs, and climbed into her lap and stayed there, warm weight against her chest, excited little face, tiny hands signing with impressive skill.

The dummy stood the barrage of swings. Just nicks on the surface to show for it.

Callum had looked different, less like a toddler and more like Sarai. So much more like Sarai, she had cried for hours that night, unrestrained wailing, like she had not done since immediately after it had happened. But it had shaken something loose, and things got better after that. Meeting Gren had helped too, someone else she could talk to without holding back, without having to worry if they were following what she was saying.

This time, she stopped her swing inches from impact. Looked up. Rayla was balanced perfectly on the dummy’s head, hands at her hips and looking down at her.

Rayla was not a fluid signer, but the girl was earnest and her face expressive, and Amaya had never had much problem gauging her intent. Those big purple eyes that turned her nephew into day-old melted jelly looked at her now, not terribly impressed. She was honestly not that impressed with herself at the moment. Callum was barely 17, five days away from legal adulthood, but a good deal further away from _actual_ adulthood. It was understandable, what he was doing, even if it was dangerous and misguided. Storming off, like _she_ was the teenager was certainly not helping things.

But Rayla did not seem to be in a chastising mood, and just smirked a her from her perch. “A moving target might be more of challenge. Wanna test that out?”

She did. And it would be a challenge. Their first meeting had been in an enclosed space that she knew and Rayla did not, an enclosed space unconducive to Rayla’s highly mobile fighting style. And she had been 33 and Rayla 15. And that ridiculously fast little shit had _still_ given her a runaround. Now she was 35 and Rayla almost 18. It was a matter of time before the balance would shift between them, she had no illusions there. But that time was not today.

Open space. Opponent faster, smaller, younger. More reckless. Wait it out. Patience would win this one.

She struck. Rayla evaded easily, but would have expended more energy doing that than Amaya did with the strike.

The girl moved around her, cautious and watching. Good. She had learned. When she struck she did not give it away like she had last time they sparred. It was quick and out of nowhere like a viper. Like it should be. Would have been the end of most opponents. Not all. As it was, she got _very_ close.

Rayla kept it up, evasive, did not strike needlessly like she had when they had fought at the Bantherlodge. Sooner or later the bravado would win out though. She would get cocky or impatient. Amaya just had to wait for it.

Amaya feinted and Rayla flipped backwards. Because she could. Needlessly flamboyant. Still. Lacking economy of movement. Still. The girl had gotten better, definitely. She had not gotten better than _her._ She was so insanely fast, she did not need to be as measured about her movements. Against most opponents that was. And there it was. The opening. Amaya struck.

Once, provoking evasion like she knew it would.

Twice, Rayla on the defensive now, but alert.

Thrice.

She stopped, not completing the final sweep, because there was a chance, slight but there, that it would have connected. Rayla could take it. Callum could not. He got so very annoying about it too.

Rayla caught her eyes, made sure she was looking. “That was kind to Callum, that.” Oh, clever girl. Perceptive. “Have you remembered that there are living people you care for? He’s an idiot but he’s my idiot. And yours. And we’ll be going back now, to talk about this. He’s hurt too, like you.” Perceptive indeed.

_I would not bet on it. I am not known for taking orders from teenagers. And I do not yield easily._

“Neither do I.” Rayla flicked her blades away and stashed them. Crossed her arms, standing upright before her. “I’m real pesky about it.”

Ha. As annoying as it often was, Amaya did appreciate the way Rayla dug her heels in when she was passionate about something. And she appreciated even more that that something was her nephew’s wellbeing. This did not mean that this was not also one of those times when it was annoying. _Fine. Say your piece, then fuck off._

“Oh thanks, I didn’t know that sign when you talked to Callum, but I think I’ve triangulated its meaning now. I’m gonna be using that one a lot.”

Amaya really, _really_ wanted to tell her that she had better get to the point or her next strike _would_ be hitting true. But she did not do empty threats.

“Look, I know it’s a stupid plan, unlikely to work and likely to get him hurt. But he’s already hurt. You do see that? That it’s hurting him, that corrupted symbol of his mother’s legacy.”

_You came here with him. I would have thought you agreed with his plan?_

“No, it’s a terrible plan. But he’s made his mind up, and I love him. And that’s part of that deal, at least for us. Supporting each other through our respective terrible choices.”

Sarai had said something very similar once, she remembered, about disagreement and support. And they had had a similar agreement, when they were as young and innocent as Callum and Rayla. But she did not agree, regardless, now. _Sometimes, you have to stand up to the people you love. Stand against them. For their own sake._

“Oh, you think there was no argument?” Rayla asked, raising an eyebrow and a bit of color rising in her cheeks. “Believe me, there was an argument. We agreed long ago, we decide together. Even if the stakes in this are his, my stakes in this are him. But I yielded in the end. And if you remember, I said I don’t do that easily. So you gotta realize I only did that because I could see how much it was hurting him. We decided. I didn’t agree with the decision we reached, but we made it and so I support it. I’m sure there are other ways to show love and to make decisions, but this is ours. We agreed.” No scrappy little slip of a girl who just told her she would make frequent use of the ‘fuck off’ sign had any right to be this mature. But she supposed that was what the war had done to her as it had to Callum and Ezran. Maturity levels all over the place depending on the situation.

 _I appreciate that you at least tried to talk him out of it._ Amaya signed, then begrudgingly added. _If anyone could have succeeded at that, it’s you._

Rayla smiled at her for real now, not that infuriating smirk anymore. Earnest. Pure. “So you’ll come back with me? No one’s saying you have to agree. But you’re the only adult family Callum has left. He deserves your support. And you deserve his. He’ll give it to you if you ask, or even if you don’t, if you just make it clear that you need it too.”

Amaya’s eyes stung, but a smile was tugging on her lips. She too, was close to also having adult family again, she realized. She grew up a little sister. And she had missed it. Not being little, but… family. Support. Janai and her had an agreement that was good, _indescribably_ good, but they were not headed for marriage, the thing that would officially make her family. Not anytime soon anyway. They were separate people with separate responsibilities for the foreseeable future. Janai was queen here, and she could not tie herself to Lux Aurea when the Katolis line of succession was just her and Callum. It would destabilize what she and the people she loved had worked for for decades and were still working for. 

Rayla was Callum’s intended, and she knew what that meant to Moonshadow elves, that she was very close to being family. A few years away maybe. And close to actual adulthood, too. Probably less than a few years. With Callum not so far behind. And dynamics were changing, but some things should stay the same because they were good. Like support. She placed her hand on the shoulder of the not-quite-but-almost-adult young woman. _Thank you, Rayla. I’m glad Callum has your support. He needs it. And mine. And he has it._

She drew Rayla into a firm hug. A slip of a girl she may be, but she was strong as she needed to be to steady her brave idiot of a nephew. Strong enough to steady _her,_ as a half-sob broke free from her chest unbidden. She swallowed the rest. She would seek out Janai later, and let them out. Janai was also strong, and never ran from things that were hard. Had certainly never run from _her._

They got halfway back up to the throne room, until Amaya realized. Rayla had _won_ this standoff _._ Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> I've barely started the next chapter, so I'll almost certainly be more than a few day before the continuation. But I'm working on it :)
> 
> Up next: The Sun Nexus

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is always welcome, even if it's negative. This story is a bit of a stretch for me, I'm trying a lot of new things, so by all means let me know what worked for you, and what didn't :)


End file.
